"What! Is she a—a native?" she cried.
"She was born there, but—Good Lord, you don't think she's black?"
"Or even a giantess," she smiled.
"She's white, of course, and she's no bigger than you, Betty. She isn't as pretty, I'll have to say that. But let's talk about something else. How am I to catch Agatha? It's imperative. 'Gad, it's life or death, Betty."
"What do you mean?" she asked, startled.
He swallowed painfully two or three times as he scraped the edge of the rug with his foot, looking down all the while.
"Well, you see, it's this way. I've married into a rather queer family. My—my wife's most damnably jealous."
"That isn't very queer, is it?"
"She has a queer way of being jealous, that's all. Somehow she's got it into her head that there's another woman up here in North America."
"Oh, I begin to see. And, of course, there isn't?"